Chapter 2 - The First Rule Breaks
Daniel called at 1:13 the next morning.
I stared at his name glowing on my nightstand until the ringing stopped.
Thirty seconds later, it started again.
Michael had dropped me off two hours earlier after our fake date. The champagne buzz was gone, leaving only exhaustion and the uncomfortable realization that for three hours I had actually enjoyed myself.
Not pretended.
Enjoyed.
Daniel called a third time.
I answered.
“What?”
There was silence.
Then his familiar voice.
“So it’s true.”
I almost laughed.
“You left the country with my best friend, Daniel. I think you surrendered your right to ask questions.”
“Michael Morgan?”
Something in his voice surprised me.
Jealousy.
He had abandoned me and somehow still expected me to remain exactly where he had left me.
“Goodnight.”
“Claire, wait.”
I nearly hung up.
Then Daniel said, “Rachel and I are coming back.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“We need to talk.”
“No. You need a lawyer.”
I disconnected.
My hands started shaking afterward.
Not because I wanted Daniel back.
Because for six years, whenever something frightened me, Daniel had been the person I called.
Now he was the thing frightening me.
At 1:21, I broke Rule Three.
I called Michael.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“They’re coming home.”
Silence.
“Rachel told you?”
“Daniel did.”
Michael exhaled.
“Rachel called me twenty minutes ago.”
That made me sit upright.
“What did she say?”
“She wanted to know whether we slept together.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her it was none of her business.”
“That sounds suspiciously convincing.”
“I've discovered I have natural talent.”
We stayed on the phone until almost three.
Technically, that violated the rule about using each other as therapists.
Neither of us mentioned it.
Monday morning brought another problem.
My boss, Cynthia Wallace, called me into her office.
She had heard about Daniel.
Apparently everyone had.
But she didn't offer pity.
Instead, she slid a folder toward me.
“Remember the Halston account?”
Of course I remembered it.
It was the account Daniel had convinced me to abandon.
“They fired their agency,” Cynthia said. “They want proposals by Friday. You originally brought them to us.”
I stared at her.
“You want me to pitch?”
“I want you to lead.”
Six months earlier, I would have called Daniel before answering.
This time I didn't.
“Yes.”
Cynthia smiled.
“There she is.”
Those three words stayed with me all afternoon.
There she is.
As if some version of Claire Bennett had disappeared long before Daniel boarded that plane.
Michael called that evening.
Not because Rachel had contacted him.
Not because we needed another photograph.
He called because my father had been discharged.
“How did you know?”
“You mentioned it at dinner.”
I hadn't remembered telling him.
Michael offered to bring food.
I almost refused.
Then I looked at the untouched groceries in my refrigerator and said yes.
He arrived forty minutes later carrying Chinese takeout and absolutely no romantic intentions.
Which somehow made the evening more dangerous.
We ate cross-legged on my living room floor because Daniel had taken the dining table chairs.
That discovery had made Michael laugh for nearly a full minute.
“What kind of man takes chairs?”
“They were Danish.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“They were very expensive Danish chairs.”
“So betrayal has a furniture clause.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
Then I looked at him.
Michael wasn't the polished man I remembered from dinners with Rachel. His sleeves were rolled up. His tie was gone. There were shadows beneath his eyes.
He looked human.
And kind.
That was worse.
“Michael?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did Rachel say you worked too much?”
His smile disappeared.
I immediately regretted asking.
But he answered.
“Because I did.”
That surprised me.
He didn't make himself innocent.
“I thought providing everything was the same as being present,” he continued. “It wasn't.”
“You're defending her?”
“No.”
He met my eyes.
“I'm refusing to rewrite my marriage just because she betrayed me.”
That sentence changed something.
Daniel had rewritten ours immediately.
He had made our marriage unhappy enough to excuse himself.
Michael wasn't doing that.
“You loved her,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Still?”
He looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
The honesty hurt more than an easy answer would have.
Then he asked, “Do you still love Daniel?”
I wanted to say no.
Instead, I whispered, “I don't know either.”
Neither of us spoke.
And somehow that silence felt safer than every promise Daniel had made me.
Three days later, we attended a charity opening together.
That was supposed to be Fake Date Number Two.
Michael wore a black tuxedo. I wore a champagne-colored gown I had bought for an anniversary trip Daniel canceled.
The moment we stepped from Michael's SUV, photographers near the hotel entrance turned toward us.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“No.”
“Perfect.”
He offered his hand.
I took it.
We walked toward the entrance.
Then Michael suddenly stopped.
His entire body stiffened.
I followed his gaze.
A taxi had pulled behind us.
Daniel stepped out first.
Rachel followed.
She was wearing red.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Daniel stared at my hand inside Michael's.
Rachel stared at me.
Her expression shifted from disbelief to anger.
Then Daniel walked toward us.
“Claire.”
I felt Michael's hand loosen, giving me the choice to release him.
I didn't.
Daniel noticed.
His jaw tightened.
“You look good.”
I smiled.
“You look unemployed.”
Michael coughed to hide a laugh.
Rachel's eyes flashed.
“Can we not do this publicly?”
I finally looked directly at the woman who had once held my hand while I cried after a miscarriage.
“You made it public when you boarded an airplane with my husband.”
Rachel flinched.
Good.
Then she looked at Michael.
“Can I speak to you alone?”
Michael's answer came calmly.
“No.”
Rachel looked stunned.
Daniel turned toward me.
“Claire, please. Five minutes.”
“No.”
“There's something you don't understand.”
“What?”
He glanced toward Michael.
Then back at me.
And the anger in his face vanished.
Something else replaced it.
Fear.
“Rachel and I didn't come back because things went wrong between us.”
Michael went still.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“We came back because someone froze our accounts.”
Michael's expression changed.
I had never seen that look before.
Rachel stepped forward.
“Michael, tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Nobody answered.
Then Rachel said the sentence that turned our ridiculous revenge arrangement into something much more complicated.
“Claire, your husband didn't just leave you.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“He took money that belongs to Michael.”
